The Adventurers
by illogical squeeks
Summary: Place Elizabeth Turner, Jack Sparrow and Cutler Beckett on a dinghy. Stir well. Add some hostility, sprinkle with ulterior motives, and enjoy! Remember, revenge is a dish best served cold! Sequel, Post AWE.
1. Recipe for Adventure

ONE: Recipe for Adventure

"Will you promise to be good if I take the gag off?" Elizabeth asked, not being able to help a small smirk. Cutler Beckett rolled his eyes, looking completely exasperated, but nodded anyhow. "You wont do anything stupid?" Beckett simply looked offended at this statement. "No sardonic comments?" Beckett's eyebrows both rose a fraction, almost sardonically.

And she was not trusting that.

"I think I'm going to leave it for another hour," Elizabeth said, sitting back and cradling baby William to her chest. Beckett shot her a look that could have singed her hair, but kept quiet. Well, he had no option because of the gag, really.

He was _still_ completely at a loss as to _why_ Elizabeth and Jack would gag him. Certainly, tying him up was probably sensible—they had issues with trust, it would seem—but gagging him? What would that achieve? Beckett was still puzzling over this, and had been three hours. For a highly intelligent man, he certainly could be slow at working things out.

It was especially annoying, as it was _his_ money—which he had had to steal from his own home—that was funding he, Elizabeth Turner (née Swann) and Jack Sparrow's journey from Tortuga to the eastern edge of Cuba, which was apparently where a ship from Tai Huang's fleet was.

If you're new to the series, you can probably tell that there is a little bit of backstory here. You might want to pop back and take a look at the two previous stories of this trilogy (this is the last one! I promise that this is the last one!) to take a look at what happened; though each story is a plot in it's own right, they are connected, and... well, it's always fairly useful to know how people came to be in these absurd positions, isn't it? Speaking of...

_How did I come to be here?_ Beckett thought, in a rather irritated manner, for about the seventh time that hour. If you haven't read the prequels, you are probably wondering that too—well, don't wait for the complimentary summing-up of the past two stories, go read! Shoo!

"I'm goin' to give you some free advice now, Lizzie, and I think you should listen as it's worth twice what you're payin' for it," Jack said from where he was sitting, "And that is this; keep pirating."

"Thank you, Jack," Elizabeth said, in an almost weary tone, "I'm not Lizzie, I'm ex-King Elizabeth."

"Right," Jack grinned slightly, "You _are_ goin' back to bein' a pirate, right? That's what I'm assuming, what with the looking for Tai Huang and all..." He waved an arm airily. Beckett looked disapproving, and Elizabeth smiled.

"Yes, I'm probably going to go back to 'pirating'," Elizabeth said, in an almost admitting tone, "I'm not quite sure yet. I still don't know what to do with _him_," she nodded towards Beckett; their prisoner, of sorts.

"That's easy, innit?" Jack jerked a thumb over his shoulder, "Sling 'im overboard. Why are we _keepin'_ him?"

"It would be wrong to kill him, after everything that's happened," Elizabeth sighed, "He did save my life. Or try to, in any case," she looked sidelong at Beckett, who was looking indignant, "And I've saved his. I'm saving his right now," she glared at him, "So I would have hoped that he'd be a little more grateful."

This was met with a muted explosion from Beckett. Elizabeth could guess roughly what that meant. _Grateful?! You think I'm crazy!_ And it was true. Elizabeth didn't think that it was anything too worrisome, but she wanted Beckett checked out by a physician... just in case.

"Well, I suppose that's up to you, Lizzie," Jack glanced out at the horizon, leaning back easily, "But I ain't trusting 'im, and that's final."

"I wouldn't expect you to trust him," Elizabeth sighed. Not even _she_ fully trusted Beckett. He was a devious one, that was for sure—even now, she couldn't tell if her was a friend of hers or not. Elizabeth—being a hopeless romantic—would have hoped that he would redeem his past crimes and prove himself to be a true friend, but somehow, that was fairly unlikely, not to mention cheesy. It wasn't his _style_.

"Good..." Jack idly rubbed his wrist, on an area that had been branded with a red-hot iron, quite a while ago, thanks to a certain somebody. "We don't exactly share good memories, do we, Cutler old chum?"

In reply, Beckett tightened his jaw and sulkily looked away.

Jack, to be honest, was having trouble with his compass. Yet again. Certainly, he had the map, but it was his compass that really helped him out in times of need—and right now, it was doing the old switching trick. It changed; Aqua de Vida, the _Black Pearl_, Aqua de Vida, the _Black Pearl_, Aqua de Vida, Tortuga, the _Black Pearl_... sighing, he picked up Elizabeth's hand, and placed the compass inside it, curling her fingers around it.

"What do you want most in the world... eh?" he asked her, with a roguish grin.

"Will," Elizabeth replied instantly, looking down at their hands, "I want to be with Will again. But I know I can't," she sighed. Jack blinked, brazenly.

"So what do you want most in the world _that's possible_?" Jack asked.

"I suppose... I just want William to be safe," she sighed and cradled her six-month-old baby to her chest. William; he was nearly seven months old, now, actually. His favourite pastimes included making incoherent noises that he seemed to think as important all the same, and banging things on other things to make noise. He was a delightful baby; though having learned to roll, crawling wasn't far off, and Elizabeth could just scent trouble from that.

"And where will he be safest, eh?" Jack smiled broadly, "On board his own ship, given to you by Tai Huang! So you want to head towards Cuba, don't you?"

"Jack," Elizabeth sighed, "It may be useful to have a compass that actually points _north_ once in a while. Cuba's to the south-east-east of here; we know that. If we had a _real_ compass, we'd be able to get there without all of this farting about with our world's greatest wants!"

"It's workin', innit?" Jack shrugged coolly. Elizabeth nodded reluctantly, and took a look at the compass. Jack peered over her shoulder, and then stood to adjust course accordingly.

Jack's dinghy was gone now; probably squandered somewhere in Tortuga, possibly even sunk. He'd abandoned it in order to extensively borrow (see: steal) this fair dinghy, which went by the cheerful name of the _Dead Mallard_. What sort of lunatic named their ship after a dead bird, really? (Well, it is slightly logical, seeing as ducks—dead or otherwise—float. And that is a ship's greatest necessity, is it not?)

The _Dead Mallard_ was bigger then Jack's old dinghy, and better... well, for their purposes, anyway. Beckett was at the stern (the very back, for those of you not in the know) tied up and gagged, looking none too pleased with this arrangement. Elizabeth was next to him, cradling William, who was beginning to doze onto her shoulder. And Jack had just finished adjusting the sails during that little description, and had now sat himself down near the front of the boat. Beckett sighed loudly; loud enough to be heard through the gag.

"Tch—I'm sorry, Cutler," Elizabeth said, patting him on the shoulder—he shot her hand a withering look, as if it were contaminated with some terrible disease. "It's for your own good. I'm going to get your head nice and better." Elizabeth felt an evil and sadistic enjoyment at baby-talking Beckett. It was simply too much fun. She even patted him on the cheek. In his bound state, Beckett could do nothing.

"Sorry to interrupt cuddle-time, ladies," Jack said, leaning forwards, "But do any of you, in fact, have any idea what on this entire bloody earth you are doing?" They both blinked at Jack; quite possibly shocked by how sensible his words were, never minding the slur.

"Tai Huang owes me, as I gave him his position... and he'll remember the maelstrom battle; I'm sure that's enough reason to have faith in my powers as a captain," Elizabeth smiled. There were not many females out there who could claim to being captain of a ship; even less Pirate King. At the mention of the maelstrom battle, Beckett flinched slightly. He'd been blown up in that battle. It had not been fun.

"Sane enough," Jack nodded, picking the compass out of Elizabeth's hands and flicking it deftly open, watching the needle twitch and spin slightly. Aqua de Vida, the _Black Pearl_. Immortality—or his ship. His lovely, lovely ship. Frowning slightly, he looked up towards Beckett. "Oy, Beckett," he said, leaning back again.

Beckett—who had been looking out at the ocean—turned his head towards Jack Sparrow, a look of contempt on what they could see of his face. Jack grinned and held up the compass, shaking it a little.

"What do _you_ want, ay?" Jack asked.

* * *

**NB:** Uh-huh. Here we are with round three. THE FINAL ROUND, FOLKS! Gah, anyhow, here it is. The final installation to the... I don't know... the 'The' trilogy? Well, anyhow, we're finally ready with it. Sorry for the long break between the final two stories, despite the fact they were actually linked. This one comes with ninety-eight percent added adventure!

Ah, and updates. I'm afraid that exams are invading my life in a fairly rude manner. So, updates may be a little... gappy. Uh-huh. No more one-a-day pampering for you guys, I'm afraid:P And, I'll admit that though I have the plot completely planned out, I haven't actually finished writing the fic yet. So... mhm. I have a mission to keep ten chapters ahead of updates, which means I'm doing quite well at the moment.

Anyhow, I'll cut the blabber. Here it is. Hope you enjoy? (Yeah, sequels are never as popular as the original, and threequels even less so. But I'm not here for the gloooory! I just can't stop writing Elizabeth and Beckett, in this situation... it's just so... I don't know. Friendly. Anyway, I said I'd cut the blabber.)

**Disclaimer**: Consider it disclaimed.


	2. Infamy Sauce

TWO: Infamy Sauce

What did Cutler Beckett want most in the world?

Money? Psht, he had enough of that. Power? Well, you could always use more power. But what Cutler Beckett wanted, most in the entire world, was to go down in history; one of the bravest, boldest, smartest men ever to work for the East India Trading company. Or something like that.

But, as luck would have it, he was now going down in history as a stark raving lunatic who betrayed the King's Crown and killed his own mother. It's a funny old world.

He remembered the cold feeling that had spread over him when he'd first read the papers—the headlines boldly speaking that he had murdered his mother; the well-known airhead, Audrey Beckett. He had been there when she had died, alright... but he hadn't killed her. Of course, many people were slightly dubious as to whether Beckett _really_ killed his mother or not... after all, there was no proof, and Beckett _had_ attempted to save her just a few days before.

Back to what he wanted... he was certain that 'Jack dead' was high on his list of priorities, but he wanted to go down in history. To live on after he had died, in a sense. Now that it was something he was never going to get, he wanted it even more. He didn't want to live a pointless life of meaningless efforts; he wanted to be in history books, being remembered by many.

Well, they would remember him all right. As 'That Nutter Who Killed His Mother'. Even though there was no proof, the press had beefed up the story in the way that the press does, and it was _that_ that would be remembered; not the small voice at the back of the crowd saying, 'Uhm, excuse me, this doesn't make any sense...'

So. Going down in history.

Could the compass point to that? Could it really? As his hands were finally released from the rope, he first untied the rough cloth that had been used to keep his mouth closed and ripped it off, and then aimed a good, heated glare at both Elizabeth and Jack.

"I hate you," he said.

"Yup, I know that," Jack said with a bright smile, pushing the compass into Beckett's hand, and hoping that he wouldn't do something stupid like hurl it into the ocean. Beckett sighed, and opened it.

The needle spun for a moment, and then stopped dead, pointing to the horizon, in a direction that was roughly the way they were heading. Beckett frowned, and looked up and out across the ocean—but he could see nothing. He wondered what it was pointing to... going down in history? His ticket to going down in history was out there somewhere? He pursed his lips, and Jack and Elizabeth both stared out at the horizon.

"What is it pointing to?" Elizabeth finally asked.

"Something far, far away," Beckett said curtly, snapping the compass shut. He, of course, had no idea what it was pointing to; but that didn't mean Elizabeth and Jack had to know about his confusion. He threw the compass to Jack, and then folded his arms.

"Aww, still upset?" Elizabeth cooed, curious, but knowing that she would get no answers from him. Beckett shot her a poisonous look.

"I have every right to be upset," Beckett said, "You blew me up, you shot me, you held me prisoner on your island, you gave me away to the Company as a mass criminal, you cut my hair horribly, and even worse... you let that crazy witch-woman molest me while you sauntered off down the pub!" Jack, who had been vaguely looking in the direction the compass had pointed when Beckett had held it, turned to them, shooting a strange look at both Elizabeth and Beckett.

"She_ must_'ve been crazy," Jack nodded.

"My sentiments exactly," Elizabeth smiled. Beckett blinked, and scowled at them.

"And now you are both ganging up on me," he muttered, "Well, what more could I expect? Two pirates, both picking on the only sane person there..." Elizabeth coughed loudly at this point.

"How much longer to Cuba?" she asked, looking towards Jack. Beckett was busily untying his feet, looking irritated, trying not to pout too much (but, sadly, failing).

"We prob'ly wont get there 'til night," Jack yawned and relaxed backwards, pulling the brim of his hat down to keep the sun off of his eyes, "This is goin' to be a long journey, methinks." It was. And that's why I'm going to skip over the rest of it. Sorry!

----------

"Thank... _God_ we are here," Beckett said, stepping off of the ship. Elizabeth was no longer concerned about him escaping; he had no allies to run to, and he knew it. There'd be no sense in running off. "I think one of us would have suffered an untimely death, if we'd have to stay on that dinghy for much longer."

"I think I see a junk in port," Elizabeth said, pointing. No, she did not mean 'junk' as in scrap—the junk is derived from the Malay word for boat, 'jong', and was one of the most popular boat designs in the orient. Think _Empress_.

"So... are you just going to stroll on board, smile nicely at the pirates, and ask to be taken to Tai Huang?" Beckett asked, incredulously.

"Shut it, Beckett," Jack said; he'd wanted to say that to him for quite a while, "You don't know how things work... leave the talking to me and King Lizzie, and we'll be alright. So much as open your mouth, and you could blow the whole thing... see?"

Beckett simply shot him a scathing look.

"That's more like it!" Jack grinned, as Elizabeth sighed and shook her head, making sure William was comfortable in her arms. He looked around at the town nearby, and the boats in the harbour. There was, indeed, a junk bobbing gently in the water—the reason that they had decided to port in this harbour, as opposed to the closer one. Night had fallen, and their way was only lit by the fragments of light through curtains and windows, and a few lamps on the dock. The junk almost seemed to glow on the black water, it's bright, oriental colours making it stand out.

"Take everything out of the _Mallard_," Elizabeth said, nodding towards the dinghy, "Hopefully, they'll let us stay on board."

"Are you goin' to carry anything?" Jack asked, shoving a sack into Beckett's arms. He made to say something, and then simply exhaled and looked irritated. Jack piled the other sack onto the load already in Beckett's arms.

"I'm carrying William," Elizabeth said with a smile.

"Great," Jack said vaguely, and then began sauntering down the harbour. Beckett narrowed his eyes, and dropped one of the sacks to the harbour. Jack turned around, and looked down at the sack. Then he shrugged.

"It's you and bonny Lizzie's possessions in that sack... if you think they're invaluable enough to leave there, be my guest," he rolled his arm forwards imploringly, and then spun around again. Beckett looked sidelong to Elizabeth, who shot Beckett a look that said, _pick that sack up, or you will find it shoved down your throat._ In a gentlemanly sweep, he bent and picked the second sack, sighing greatly, as if it were tragic.

With that, they all began walking to the junk.

----------

Tracking a man was not an easy task.

It was fairly easy, in those days, for a criminal to simply vanish into the humdrum that was ordinary life. Obscurity was not so hard to accomplish, in a world where photography was yet to be invented, and DNA was something of the far, far future. People vanished all of the time.

However, that did not make it any more acceptable.

Lester Mann was a nasty piece of work. As well as being a nasty piece of work—which was more of a hobby then a profession—he did special jobs for special clients; if they could afford it. He was very good indeed at tracking people down. And he was very good at killing people, also. Think Mercer; Lester Mann wasn't so different to him; perhaps a little more upper class. And the man who hired him wasn't so different from the man who hired Mercer, either.

There were lots of people in his business. Assassins were needed much more then the peaceful facades imply; deaths were rarely accidents in the power-hungry world that was the upper class. Specifically, the Company. I'm sure that there were _some_ lords and workers for the Company that got there by completely fair means.

Just not many of them.

It was a wide world. Where on earth could he start? Most would deem the task given to him as impossible. But 'impossible' wasn't a word in Lester Mann's dictionary... in fact, he did not own a dictionary, so every word wasn't a word in Lester Mann's dictionary. But that is beside the point.

The point is, Lord Leonard didn't intend on doing nothing. Remember that now.

...just so you know.

* * *

**NB:** Goodness, it's been a while since I've updated! I'm sorry, folks... I've been so busy, heh. Thanks for the reviews, they are all much appreciated! And I'm really sorry if I didn't get a chance to reply to one!

Extract from next chapter: _"He is an accomplice of mine," Elizabeth waved an arm at Beckett, "Feel free to keep him in the brig. He can cause trouble, sometimes."_


	3. Best With Chopsticks

THREE: Best With Chopsticks

And, with that, our dear trio were headed for Singapore.

In short, the captain of the _Imperial Abacus_ (which is the un-aforementioned name of the junk), Bo Waran, recognized her from the maelstrom battle and agreed to take her to Singapore, as they were headed there anyway, they simply had a couple of stops to make on the way. Elizabeth wasn't surprised to hear that Tai had headed back to his old stomping grounds; after the meeting of the Brethren Court, there was no need to hang about in the Caribbean, when there was loot to be stolen in Asia...!

Elizabeth, being a woman, and one of slight importance too, merited her own cabin; it was small and makeshift, but she and William were grateful for it anyway. Jack Sparrow was treated with much suspicion, but upon Elizabeth's insistence, was treated with at least a grudging respect.

"And who... is this?" Bo asked, gesturing towards Beckett. He had not spoken for the entire ordeal, not even to comment on the smell. He was being a good boy.

"He is an accomplice of mine," Elizabeth waved an arm, "Feel free to keep him in the brig. He can cause trouble, sometimes." And that, really, was how Cutler Beckett ended up sitting (somewhat huffily) in the brig of the _Imperial Abacus_, thinking up a great many ways to kill Elizabeth silently and painfully. He was not very happy for the journey; but nobody seemed to mind.

Which was even more annoying.

"May I ask, ex-King Swann... what you are wanting with Captain Huang?" Bo had ordered food to be brought out, and he and Elizabeth had both settled down for a meal. William was in the care of a female member of the crew, named Fen Wu... on board the more high-up junks of Tai's fleet, female attendants were often welcomed on board, as the Chinese did not follow the same traditions and beliefs as those in the west.

"I am going to ask him a favour," Elizabeth nodded slightly, "Do you think he will allow me my own ship and crew within his fleet?" Bo gave her a yellow-toothed smile.

"I am sure he will... he owes you greatly," he said in an agreeing tone. Elizabeth was very grateful for Bo's help; though she was quite certain that he was only doing so for Tai's approval, it was help nonetheless. And it was kind for him to let them come all the way to Singapore with him and his men... and women.

Fen Wu was a mild-mannered and polite girl, who held baby William with a reverence, as if he were made of gold and eggshells. She also always remembered to bow in the presence of... well, anyone, though she usually managed to catch herself on time when she was holding William. Elizabeth, at first, had been worried about leaving William in the care of anyone but herself... but she was glad for Fen's help, eventually.

"'Ello," Jack said to her, with his cockiest grin.

"Good evening, sir," she said in her light, feathery voice, bowing ever so slightly. Jack didn't get the feeling that she was going to supply any pleasurable company for him, somehow.

Beckett, meanwhile, was not having fun down in the brig.

"I don't want you causing any trouble, Beckett," Elizabeth wagged a finger, "You know that. Don't worry, we're on the last leg of the journey now... alright?" Beckett looked at her for a moment, and then turned his nose up, sniffily. He was fairly indignant about this; Elizabeth rolled her eyes and placed the plate of slightly-cold food for him on top of a crate with a light clatter. Beckett ignored her, and the food.

"A pirate ship," he muttered to himself, "I'm on a pirate ship."

Elizabeth decided to leave him there. Over time, she hoped, he would mellow. She wasn't sure whether to reveal who he truly was to Tai Huang or not; after working besides Tai for quite a while, she trusted him, and knew that they were fairly definite allies, if not friends. But then again, Cutler Beckett... he was a whole different matter. Tai would probably see fit to execute him.

Frowning, Cutler Beckett sat down once more, after Elizabeth had clomped away and out of the brig. He was alone again—alone with his thoughts. Piracy. He hated it more then anything else in the world... well, nearly. Perhaps it was more the pirates he hated then the actual concept of piracy, but nevertheless...

He supposed that, in a way, it had been incorporated into his upbringing, and drilled into his head; pirates were bad. _Hang the blighters. Hang them all!_ It was a rather violent message to send out to young children, but the one that was sent anyway. That, paired with the fact that switching sides would undo all of the work he had done for the past, what, fourteen years of his life.

Hmm. Piracy was out of the question, was it not? But was there any way for him to go back to his old life? Lord Leonard was a nutcase, that much was obvious. But he had managed to mess everything up pretty badly for him—did he have a single chance of ever getting back to where he used to be?

_Yes, no, maybe,_ Beckett frowned, _Jack's compass. It was pointing to what I want most, even though I don't _know_ what I want most. What I want is to be remembered through history... and whatever the compass was pointing to would lead me to that. So... I have to follow this compass. Logic, really. But how do I steal the compass from Jack? And then, how do I follow it?_ Questions, questions...

There must be a way, somewhere...

----------

"Oy, Lizzie," Jack's head popped out from behind the stairs that led up to the top deck at the stern of the ship. He beckoned ardently, and Elizabeth walked up to him, putting her hands on her hips in a commanding manner. Fen was looking after William again, and as much as she loved her baby, it was good to be free of holding him once in a while.

"Yes, Jack?" She asked, sighing.

"You never answered my question. _Do_ you feel like an adventure?" Jack raised an eyebrow, curling a strand of his beaded beard around an index finger.

"I..." Elizabeth sighed, and glanced around, "What's your big plan, Jack?" She asked, folding her arms.

"Something _very_ interesting, and probably worth a lot," Jack grinned, thinking about how much people would pay for immortality. So much money, so little time!

"That's not very specific," Elizabeth said, but she knew that Jack liked to be holding all the cards, should things go awry, as they often did. He would keep a hold of this little plan, probably until he was certain that she would help him.

An adventure. She was surprised that she was actually tempted by it; but she was. Still—William. Her darling son. He mattered to her, more then anything else in the world... and an adventure could risk him. She thought about it, and she could see that Jack was watching her expressions carefully.

"It'll be fun," he said, as if hoping that this would tempt her, "It'll be very fun. Just like old times. But without, you know, dear Willy."

"I'll think about it, alright?" Elizabeth smiled warily at Jack, "But I have William to look after now. I can't risk going into too many battles—but if you need a ship and a crew," she sighed, "I suppose that, if Tai Huang is kind to me, I will possess both... and I might help with your little 'adventure'. But don't make any dangerous 'plans' for me, alright?" She frowned at him, well aware that Jack tended to fit people into his own agenda however he wanted.

"I'd never do such a thing, Lizzie!" Jack opened his arms out, holding his fingerless-glove and ring-clad hands out to the sky. Elizabeth simply shook her head at him, and then turned to heel to leave, thinking one more about baby William, who was, of course in the care of Fen Wu at the moment. She wondered if Bo would mind too much if she asked to take Fen Wu with her, assuming Tai let her have her own vessel. She could find another helping maid, yes, but William was getting used to Fen now, and besides, she liked Fen...

----------

It was midday, a few weeks later, when they arrived in Singapore. Tai Huang did not use Sao's old bathhouse for a base any more; redcoats had discovered it, after all. In fact, he moved to a different city all together, but Singapore was a good vantage point (so to speak), so he had kept to the same country.

The sun beating down on them, Elizabeth, Jack, Beckett, Bo and the entire crew walked the streets of Singapore, away from the docks and further into the shoreline town of Guoquiang. Fen Wu was with them too, dutifully carrying the baby William.

After a long journey, which consisted of many splits and slipping through dark alleyways, they arrived at Tai's newest base. Disguised as an opium bar—a place where men could come to smoke the drug—it was not as large as Tai's old place, but just as well guarded. The disguise was hard to see through; it seemed a place to come and smoke, nothing more, and nothing less; men were sitting and lying inside, peacefully puffing on ornate pipes, as women wandered around with drinks and other, less savoury things. There appeared nothing else.

However, the place was built on top of one of the many miles of underground tunnels—the reason for choosing this location above others—and there was an entire back to the building that was hidden from the public eye; and that was the place Tai had come to call the base of his lordship. Not many knew this... and those that did kept it a grave secret.

They had soon left the smoky streets, full of urchins and stalls, and were in the underground tunnels, the walls dripping with moisture and moss. Beckett wrinkled his nose, but did not pass comment. He hadn't been hugely talkative, recently.

Eventually, they reached a thick, wooden door, with heavy metal braces across it and an eye-slot; much like the one Sao Feng had used. At Bo's heavy knocks, the eye-slot slid open with a clang, and there was a quick conversation in their home language. Eventually, the door swung open. They were in. Elizabeth turned, and saw Beckett giving her a very annoyed look indeed.

He seemed to be saying, _are you sure this is a good idea?_ Elizabeth wasn't sure; but not for the reasons Beckett would have wondered. Beckett now knew the location of Tai's hideout... and as much as she knew there wasn't a chance of him returning to his old life, she couldn't help but feel as if she were betraying her former second-in-command. She would have to keep a close eye on Beckett...

They walked into the hideout.

* * *

**NB:** Ah, remember the good ole days of one chapter a day? Thanks for all of the reviews--I love you all very much!

Extract from next chapter: _Lester knew that he could threaten her for information, but he didn't feel that the need would arise with someone as weak as Thera Mercy..._


	4. A La Snitch

FOUR: A La Snitch

Tortuga; an endless mine of information. However sourceless and gossipy that information may be, if you could rake through the lies, a lot could be dug up about the criminal underworld. Lester Mann would know this—he wasn't the most lawful of people, after all. He picked through information carefully, taking every hint with a pinch of salt, but taking it nonetheless. He and a small team had been raking Tortuga for any information on a man of a certain description... and bingo, he had come up green a few times.

Elizabeth was wrong. Tortuga wasn't as safe as she thought it was—not when even the lords were playing dirty...

Apparently, Beckett—or a man who looked very much like Beckett—had been sighted quite a few times. He'd stayed for nearly two weeks with, and he couldn't believe he was hearing this, a woman. A woman who had a baby. Hmm... Lester felt that Leonard would be very interested indeed to know this.

Beckett had also, apparently, paid a visit to the witch-doctor Thera Mercy. And that was who he was going to visit now. Blending in rather easily, the dark-haired man slipped through alleys, around corners, keeping his eyes narrowed, but watchful. Muggers were commonplace here; what they didn't know was that he had a pistol, and several knives hidden upon his person. Finally, he arrived at the right place.

"Thera Mercy?" he snapped out professionally; there was some rustling behind the beaded curtain, the only other exit from the 'waiting room', and he heard footsteps slowly approaching.

"Yes, sir?" Thera came through the beaded door with a flourish, setting a dreamy, green gaze towards him—though Lester was certain that he saw her eyes flicker around his person, most probably looking for any signs of money, anything she could filch. Lester was a world-weary man; he knew that many witch-doctors tried to trick their clients out of their clothes (by means that Beckett had unfortunately discovered), and stole everything they owned while they slept, or at least were... occupied.

"I'm here to ask about a man who I've heard came here, about two weeks ago, perhaps more," he narrowed his eyes, "Curly blonde hair, small in stature, fair skin, most likely an upper-class accent... ring any bells?" He would be happy to go into further description, if need be.

"Yes... I remember him," Thera said, a touch weakly. How could she forget? "What's it to you?" Her soft, witch-doctoring voice was dropped for a much more bland accent.

"I'm looking for him," Lester knew that he could threaten her for information, but he didn't feel that the need would arise with someone as weak as Thera Mercy... which he doubted was her real name, but an adopted one. "What did he tell you his name was?"

"Hunter," Thera replied, though she was slightly suspicious, she wouldn't be unhappy to hand the man over... he hadn't been very polite to her, after all.

_Hunter_. That was all the proof he needed—the man that had been seen here in Tortuga, with a woman, and had been spotted leaving in a dinghy named the _Dead Mallard_ (the theft of which a local had complained to him about for at least twenty minutes) with the pirate Jack Sparrow (who apparently was indebted to a lot of people here) was Cutler Beckett. He was almost certain of it. Hunter—it fit.

Jack Sparrow, eh? And the woman... he'd asked for a description, but she just seemed like the average bint to him. He wondered what on earth Beckett would be doing with them... though a bunch of little ragged boys (who you may remember running past Beckett as he stood by the _Dead Mallard_) had told him that they had seen the 'dreadlocked one' knocking Beckett out with a plank. Apparently, they had found it very amusing.

"We was playin' ball," a gap-toothed one had said, scratching his scraggly hair (undoubtedly infected with headlice), "And we saw the curly-'aired one bein' knocked out by the dreadlocked one. It was real funny!"

Lester Mann decided to get back to Lord Leonard now; he felt he had sufficient information from Tortuga...

--

Though Elizabeth got away with it, the guards had to insist on searching both Jack and Beckett; Beckett met this with a scowl, but gritted his teeth and allowed it anyway, feeling very undignified. Elizabeth wondered if Tai Huang would recognize him—she thought it unlikely. You don't see someone new and think, _their face looks like my old enemy whom I murdered,_ you think more along the lines of, _who's that_?

The new hideout was very different to the old one, under the care of Sao Feng. Much more... orderly, she supposed, but perhaps that wasn't the right word for it. Pirates weren't really the types for orderly. She walked past various guards, and other Chinese men talking and arguing with each other; through to a large room that had various, tattered charts on walls, a few finely-dressed women and friends sitting, talking and suchlike. The entire base was cast in half-darkness, lit only by candles and a few lanterns. Tai Huang had risen at hearing the news of Elizabeth's arrival, and walked forwards to greet her.

He had changed in looks... slightly. Though his clothes were undoubtedly finer, it didn't look like he had seen fit to wash. Pirates, all the same. Undoubtedly, Sao's previous wealth had been distributed; and he had passed a lot on to his successor, which everyone took to be Tai. He had lost the woven straw hat and the studded leather and hide attire, and instead was dressed in much more traditional clothing, though not as fine as Sao's—Sao Feng had taken great pains to keep his appearance as fearsome, powerful and rich as possible, but Tai didn't seem the type to care.

"Elizabeth Turner," he swept his arms out in a friendly gesture, smiling slightly, "What brings you so far east?" In the light of hundreds of candles, some of then scented from what Elizabeth could smell, she could see him examining her. He spared a glance for Jack and Beckett, who were behind her, but didn't comment.

"Captain Tai Huang," Elizabeth smiled and bowed slightly, seeing it as polite; she glanced over her shoulder, and saw the rest of the crew do the same, apart from Jack and Beckett... Jack too proud, and Beckett too indignant. "I come asking a favour."

"I will most probably grant it for you, as you have honoured me greatly," Tai said, to which Elizabeth smiled weakly. Yes, she had felt that giving Tai the position of Pirate Lord of the South China Seas would make him rather indebted to her. "What is the favour?" She could hear him hoping it wouldn't be too costly or difficult.

"I ask of you to let me have a ship and a crew in your fleet—I wish to sail again, and under your colours seems to be the correct place for me," Elizabeth hoped she had phrased that rightly. She was not usually one for such politeness, after leaving her life of upper-class snobbery, but she felt that she owed it to Tai Huang. She felt almost at home... he was a Pirate Lord, but after living much of his life lower class, he lacked that 'fear factor' that Sao had mastered... though that didn't make him any less of a pirate. Elizabeth was certain that he knew his stuff, else Sao wouldn't have named him his second in command.

"Of course," Tai answered, probably rather relieved that it wasn't anything hugely major—Elizabeth remembered asking the same of Sao Feng... but she felt much more at ease with Tai. Though they'd had a slightly... rocky start, his promotion had certainly helped to build them as strong allies. "I will have one of the junks prepared to sail," he said.

A lot of the people in the room had stopped to eavesdrop on their little conversation, however, they began talking idly again once more. It was almost like some sort of meeting of the... well, it looked to be upper-class Chinese pirates. No doubt Tai had been fast in sealing deals and making allies, just as Sao Feng had.

"Thank you, Tai," Elizabeth smiled at him, "You have my gratitude." She realized that she was speaking in her Pirate King voice again, despite the fact that she wasn't one. She supposed that she would never get unused to that.

"It is the least that I can do for you... and after all, I seem to owe you a ship, after you gave me the _Empress_," Tai raised an eyebrow. She hadn't, as such, _given_ him the _Empress_... simply decided to move away from piracy, and thus handing over her position—and everything with it—to Tai Huang. Which quite probably was the reason for his kindness, and willingness to help her.

"You deserve your position," Elizabeth said, hoping that this wasn't crossing the line between flattery to sucking up. She was planning on keeping on good terms with Tai Huang.

"May I ask what you are planning on doing with a ship and crew?" Tai asked. Elizabeth noticed how he stood much taller now; it was something that every Pirate Lord learned to do. They had reputations to protect, and had to keep fearsome at all times. She was certain that Tai's fleet were terrorizing the South China Seas—and possibly more—as they spoke.

"We're going on an adventure," Elizabeth replied simply. Somewhere behind her, Jack grinned broadly.

--

The boat that had been given to them was named the _Red_ _Kite_, and was a lovely vessel—perhaps nowhere near the splendour of the _Empress_, but that had been Sao Feng's personal junk, and was reserved for Pirate Lords and other high-ups... such as Tai Huang. She looked around her new vessel, smiling happily. It felt good to be on a ship again. Then, she turned to Beckett.

"You've been awfully monosyllabic," she said to him. He looked towards her, scathingly.

"That's because I hate you," he replied. It was simple enough, but somewhat hard for Elizabeth to grasp. She tried a smile, to see if he was joking, but he didn't smile back. She frowned at him, and then put her hands on her hips and looked at him properly.

"What are you talking about?" she asked, shaking her head.

"I'm... not... talking to you," Beckett explained, as if to a five-year-old, and then he pressed his lips together and walked off across the deck. Elizabeth shook her head, at a complete loss.

_Beckett's in a huff with me! _she thought, rolling her eyes, _how... childish!_

She couldn't deny missing his comments, though... as snarky and pointed as they could be. _Huh—hopefully, he'll stop his acting up soon,_ Elizabeth thought, raising her eyebrows. Lords... such divas!

**NB:** GAAAAHHHHH!

In other words, thank you for being so patient with me. I have been working my ends off on three case studies, but now that the second one is nearing completion, I have much more time. I have written the story quite a few chapters ahead, but I just haven't had the time to update... I'm really sorry. Hope you all don't mind. And I'm glad to have new readers, too!

Extract from next chapter: _"What happened to Sao's map?" Elizabeth asked, looking at the splintered edges._


	5. Brought to Boil

**NB:**

Hi there,

I am sorry for my complete fail at updating, really I am. The sad thing is that I have several chapters of this story already written, and have for a long time. The thing is that real life was really starting to nag at me to stop my daydreaming and writing as I am now in the process of Growing Up (TM), besides which it seemed that people had stopped reading. I didn't realize that there are people actually missed this!

It's been a long time since I checked my email, and I came back to quite a few reviews, which were unexpected yet of course welcome and even flattering. So it is my wish now to apologise profusely to everyone who has been kept waiting, and finally present to you another chapter of the final installment of my Beckett-and-Elizabeth-banter-buddies trilogy. Again, I am very very very sorry. I am actually throwing myself upon all of my readers' mercies. I know that I have been unforgivably terrible and I blame it on my own ignorance that people still even remembered my stories! Updates may not be as frequent now but I will try to never disappear for so long again.

Squeeks  
xxx

* * *

FIVE: Brought to Boil

They had made their final preparations, and left, and had been sailing for about an hour now—to the Caribbean, though the exact location wasn't really known. Elizabeth had had a quick discussion with the physician before leaving, and he said that he would 'see to' Beckett... she was beginning to think that his 'insanity' wasn't too bad, but then again, she couldn't be sure with Beckett...

Sighing, she pushed into his cabin (well, the cabin he was staying in with some others; though he had appeared to be fairly annoyed about having to share, there was nothing he could do about it) and stood in the doorway, her hands on her hips. Beckett didn't glance at her.

"You're funny when you sulk. You know that, don't you?" Elizabeth asked, going for casualness, though it failed slightly. He turned, and glared at her. "Are you going to come out of the cabin?" Beckett just narrowed his eyes slightly, and then turned away from her again, stalking off through the row of bunks. Elizabeth looked left and right, and then followed behind him with a sigh. "Beckett! Stop being such a baby!"

He turned to face her, his expression not really a glare any more—he simply looked sour, and slightly disinterested. He pointed to his mouth. _I am not talking to you._ He pointed to the door. _Get out._ Elizabeth shook her head, exasperated.

"I'm the captain here," Elizabeth said, indicating to herself, "And you will do as I say! And I _order_ you to _talk_!"

It was shocking that those words would ever leave her mouth. Beckett seemed to think so too—but he didn't speak, just raised an eyebrow, and then set himself down on his bunk, reaching into a sack—his sack of belongings—and pulling out a book. Elizabeth couldn't help but wrinkle her nose.

"Who brings a _book_ on an adventure?" She demanded. Beckett ignored her, and opened the book at a marked page, beginning to read. Elizabeth folded her arms, glaring at him for another few minutes, to no response. "Beckett!"

He glanced up at her coolly for a moment, and then turned the page and carried on reading.

"You are... you are _so_ annoying," Elizabeth fumed, turning and stalking out of the cabin, past the other five bunks, and slamming the door closed angrily. Beckett waited until he reached the end of the page before carefully marking the page once more and closing the book.

"Touchy," he remarked lightly as he placed the book on a small, ramshackle bedside table, "Does she want me to shut up, or talk? Women..."

----------

"Jack!" Elizabeth called to him from across the deck, "Come into my cabin, will you?" Predictably, Jack was wandering around as if he owned the ship—Elizabeth didn't mind terribly, she supposed, but she knew how to make it stop should she get annoyed by it. She was holding William once more; she had fetched him from Fen Wu... who was coming on their journey with them! Bo had been very kind... though, well, Elizabeth had asked Tai Huang really, and Bo was in no position to say no.

"Yes, love?" Jack asked, coming in through the door, in his usual unusual gait.

"I think we should discuss this little 'adventure' of yours," Elizabeth said, raising an eyebrow as he strode in. There were some charts and suchlike set on tables. There were candles, but Elizabeth had opted to not light them, instead throwing apart the heavy, red curtains, allowing sunshine to cascade into the room. The _Red Kite _was, as named, mostly red—with a jade green (or what used to be jade green) hull. She was painted in the usual bright colours, reminding Elizabeth of the empress—also, being a junk, the _Red Kite_'s sails were curved and ribbed, allowing for much more flexibility in the wind.

"Alright," Jack clapped his hands together and smiled his golden-toothed smile, before reaching into the folds of his topmost coat and brought out a smallish, rolled-up object. Elizabeth faintly recognized it, and her eyebrows rose when he unfurled it into the middle section of Sao's map.

"What happened to Sao's map?" Elizabeth asked, looking at the splintered edges.

"Oh, I 'ad to steal it from dear Hector, before he sailed off in me ship," Jack looked a little annoyed, "I knew I couldn't trust 'im... treacherous swine..."

"Jack, that is a priceless artefact!" Elizabeth yelped, looking at the wrecked map more closely. Jack simply looked unimpressed, and she regained her composure, deciding that it was—after all—the middle that mattered. "Alright... what on this map has interested you?" Jack spun one of the sections of the map a little, and then revealed it to her with a flourish, pointing one grubby finger at the correct spot.

"This! The Water of Life," he put one arm around Elizabeth's shoulders and held his hand out in front of both of them, as if showing her something right in front of them, "The Fountain of Youth! Imagine it, Lizzie—living forever. Perfect."

"Yes, Jack," Elizabeth sighed and pushed his arm off of her shoulder. He looked at her for a moment, seeming put out. "I don't know. I can't see the upside to _me_ going there. I don't want to live forever." She folded her arms and looked at Jack—who seemed very surprised. His eyebrows had nearly disappeared into his bandana.

"You _don't_ want to live forever? You _want_ to die?" Jack chided. Elizabeth rolled her eyes.

"No, I don't want to die—but I don't want to live forever. It seems, to me, to be a little bit of a responsibility. And a horribly irreversible one at that. But I _am_ interested... thinking about how much people would pay for this..." she frowned slightly, and Jack nodded eagerly. "We'll have to make sure it doesn't get into the wrong hands, though..."

"The wrong hands?" Jack shrugged, "Way I see it, its no problem as long as they're payin' us with something valuable and sparkly... you know?"

"I'm not like you, Jack," Elizabeth sighed. She looked at him for a moment, and then finally nodded, cradling William, "But I think this'll be an interesting journey, anyway..." she looked at the place he had pointed to, and frowned, "That's in Florida..." Florida's English colonies had failed overall, and been taken over by the Spanish (and some French) mostly, though that was to change in the future.

"Yes, 'tis," Jack smiled, "But we shouldn't go to Florida first."

"And why's that?" Elizabeth asked, folding her arms. Jack pointed at a tiger embellished on one of the outer rings of the map.

"When kitty lines up with our destination," Jack nodded, "It means we're goin' to have safe passage. Before headin' to the treasure that is the Water of Life," he said the name of his so-called treasure with a flourish, "We need to find out more of its myths... or we'll end up very dead. Which really is the opposite to the point of this expedition."

"I see," Elizabeth sighed, "And where do we find out its myths?"

"There is a book," Jack said boldly, and Elizabeth realized that he was possibly going off on one again, "A mighty fine, old, magical... _special_ book, that has _all_ the myths inside. And that book," Jack grinned, "Is mine."

"Alright... so where is it, Jack?" Elizabeth asked, as if asking a very young child.

"That's the problem. It's on the _Pearl_. And I could use some help gettin' it back..." Jack uncurled a hand in front of him, a gesture for god-knows-what, "It's hidden on board. Darling Hector or his aggressive little pet are certain to have not found it, as it is hidden very, very, very... very well."

"How did you get this magical book?" Elizabeth put her hands on her hips, quite sure that it wasn't by honest means. And she was right.

"Oh, I stole it, from... someone not important right now," Jack shrugged airily, "What does it matter? I know it's correct, and worth an absolute bloody fortune! You trust me, don't you?" He looked to her, questioningly.

"I'm not entirely sure I want to come on this journey," Elizabeth sighed, "It sounds dangerous, and... well, it's quite clear you're using me."

"Using you? Lizzie!" Jack spread his arms out, "Elizabeth! I have your best interests, and I know that you are just hankerin' to get out there and do something... am I right?" Elizabeth didn't deny it. "Think about it! Adventure, excitement, immortality! What more could you want, eh?"

"Hmm," Elizabeth pursed her lips, "It's not just me. If Beckett gets wind of this, he will probably explode. You know that, right?"

"All the better!" Jack declared.

"Hmm," Elizabeth sighed, "I'm going to go talk to the ship surgeon. I'm sure he'll take a look at Beckett..."


	6. Like a Flambé

SIX: Like a Flambé

Elizabeth was correct. If Cutler Beckett was to realize exactly what was being planned, his course of action would quite probably be to promptly explode. That would be a bit of a shame, because not only did spontaneous explosions cause quite a mess, but it wouldn't really do much for his height, if he were to revert to two pairs of gently steaming boots (oh yes, he had those boots of his back, stolen from his manor).

She walked into Beckett's cabin once more, William in her arms. She scanned the room for him, and noticed him lying face down on the bed, his face in his arms. Was he sleeping? Noticing his hand moving slightly, she decided that he wasn't.

"Beckett," Elizabeth said in her bossy voice, striding up between the beds briskly. She looked at him for a moment, and then kicked one leg of the bunk. No response. "Cutler," she finally sighed, "Stop being a tit. Sulking and being a big baby about this isn't going to get you anywhere; you're annoyed with me... I understand, _somewhat_. But we've..." she shrugged, "We've been through a lot together, you and I. We have to stick together, surely?" It came out hurried and embarrassed. "Beckett?"

Still no response. Frowning, Elizabeth prodded him in the shoulder. Beckett's head moved slightly, and then he raised his head with an incoherent murmur, looking at her blearily. Elizabeth stared at him in shock.

"What?" he asked her, somewhat drowsily, trying to focus his eyes on her with a small frown.

"You were really asleep?" Elizabeth questioned, dumbstruck for a moment before converting to an angry glare. She was also slightly embarrassed about her little monologue. Beckett looked around, as if unsure whether she was talking to him or not. And then he turned back to her.

"What did you think I was doing?" Beckett asked, "Examining my pillow extremely closely?"

"No... I thought you were sulking!" Elizabeth exclaimed. Beckett blinked, as if suddenly realizing something.

"Oh yes. I'm not talking to you," Beckett said, and immediately dropped his head back to the bed. Elizabeth grabbed him by the shoulder and wrenched him upwards, supporting William in one arm, who seemed to be finding the entire ordeal very funny.

"Co!" he exclaimed.

"Beckett!" Elizabeth couldn't be bothered to go through her previous speech again, "Stop being a big baby and grow up! We have to work together, and that's all there is to it." Not _quite_ as touching, but Elizabeth's weary frustration had been welling up inside of her for long enough and she knew that there wasn't a lot she could do right now to make Beckett like her any _less_. Beckett didn't respond, simply pouted.

William made another unintelligible noise and began sucking on a finger. Other then that, silence.

"Well, seeing as you're not going to grace me with a reply," Elizabeth forced a smile, talking rather breathlessly, "I'm going to tell you all about our plan, and you're not going to say anything... am I right?" Beckett simply looked at her, and then away again, expression one of boredom. "Basically, we are going to follow Jack Sparrow's plan into complete danger and uncertainty, with no real strategy, looking for the Fountain of Youth, and a book from the _Black Pearl_, being used for his own means. And you're going to be dragged along for the whole thing!" Beckett's expression could be seen moving across his face like the sun dawning over the curve of the globe, an expression that mingled shock and disbelief. "Not only that, but I have hired a physician, and he is going to be seeing to you now, you crazy old bugger, you!"

There was a moment of silence as Beckett stared at her. And then...

Boom!

----------

So, Beckett was with a lady, eh? A lady with a baby. How... _interesting_. Did he care about this lady in particular? Well, he must, surely, if he was with her. And the baby was also most intriguing. So was the baby his? If so... well... instant blackmail material. Also, holding his lady friend and baby hostage should make Beckett jump through hoops.

The search was narrowing; now for Beckett, accompanied by a woman, a baby, and a well-known pirate. Apparently, someone had seen people of the same description landing one evening in Cuba; and that very day, a junk had set sail, eastwards. A junk that could be traced to Singapore, or China. Leonard smiled mirthlessly. A trail. A chase.

All he had to do was follow.

----------

Now, obviously, when I say that Cutler Beckett exploded, I don't mean that he quite literally combusted from the inside and splattered over half of the cabin, thus mentally scarring Elizabeth (and probably young William) forever. His explosion was more of an internal explosion; but it was just as powerful nevertheless. He exploded—figuratively—like a flambé.

For those of you not in the know, flambéing is a procedure in which rich food is set alight using alcohol and it results in a fiery (but tasty) inferno, and a large 'whoomph!' of flames, though the fire quickly consumes the alcohol and is over quite quickly. It was discovered by Henri Carpentier in Monte Carlo, in 1895 (so Beckett would never have heard of the flambé that he metaphorically represented), when he accidentally set fire to a pan of crêpes. It is thought that he said something along the lines of, "Burning the sauce affected the flavour in a way that I could not have anticipated!" (translated from French), but what he really said was probably something along the lines of, "Aaauuugh!" (not translated from French.)

Anyway, now that you have a little background information on the birth of the flambé (and, if you did not know before, probably how it can be compared to Beckett's brain explosion), let's move on with the story.

Beckett could only stare at Elizabeth in horror for a moment, before he caught a hold of her by one wrist, and dragged her to the door of the cabin. Elizabeth thought for a moment that he was throwing her out, but instead they ran into a certain Jack Sparrow who had been looking for someone to tease (see: Beckett) and had ended up outside the cabin.

"Sparrow," Beckett spoke in tones of barely suppressed loathing, "Please tell Captain Turner that she is an utter fool and I hate her."

"Er, no problem." Jack looked to Elizabeth. "You're an utter fool and Beckett hates you."

"Tell _him_ that he's being stupid," Elizabeth said, shooting a disapproving look at Beckett, who scowled back at her.

"Beckett, you're being-,"

"Ask Turner if she is completely, utterly and unashamedly insane, will you? Because I have this feeling that she just might be!" Beckett didn't wait for Jack to finish his dutiful incanting of Beckett's words, and Jack shot him a tut-tutting look. "Hypocrite," Beckett muttered, as an afterthought.

"Elizabeth. Are you completely, utter and unashamedly ins-?"

"Well, Jack," Elizabeth wrenched her arm out of Beckett's grasp and used it to support William more thoroughly, "Could you please tell Beckett that he's acting like a little prat and that he should get his head out of his backside?" Jack spun to face Beckett, steeping his fingers.

"You're acting like a little prat and you should get your head out of your backside," Jack said in a tone that suggested he was enjoying himself. Beckett turned around to walk off, and Elizabeth caught him by one shoulder.

"Oh no. You are going to see the physician. _Now_," she steered him towards the sick bay of the ship. Beckett was forced along, backwards.

----------

Guan Do was the ship's surgeon. He didn't only do surgery, however—he had been selected by Elizabeth for his knowledge on the brain. And now it was time for him to examine this 'friend' of hers; though he seemed incredibly unwilling. Beckett was thrust down onto the sick-bay's bunk, and Captain Turner turned to Guan, heaving a massive sigh, her baby on one hip.

"Do what you must," she sighed, nodding at Beckett, before shooting him a spiteful look. He merely pursed his lips. Guan nodded, and turned to Beckett.

* * *

**NB: **I'm just fine-tuning Chapter 22, and the hardest part is beginning to become finding relevant food-based chapter titles. Looking back through the original text, I'm starting to realize that my writing style has changed a little (hopefully for the better), but I am generally leaving the chapters I wrote back then as they were. Might as well, I suppose. I'm apalled at my past self for just how long I waited before beginning the actual adventure, but I don't think it's too far off now. Bear with me! And I'm glad to have people reading... I'm surprised, but pleasantly so, of course!


	7. Durian Jam

SEVEN: Durian Jam

Junks. _Search all junks._ And question them. New orders in the search for wanted fugitive Cutler Beckett.

Lord Leonard was on board his vessel, the _Outrecuidance_, and still in Caribbean waters. He was with the Company; overseeing things, as usual. Slave trades from Africa, piracy, that sort of thing. The _Outrecuidance_ was much the same build as the _Endeavour_ had been, though noticeably smaller, a fact Leonard had disliked... but he had been tentatively told that another ship as large as the _Endeavour_, they felt, would really be pushing it.

Hmm... still, there wasn't much he could do about that. He stirred his tea (!) and looked around himself peacefully, before settling down for some writing. He wasn't really the action type. More the sneaky type... he had men to do that sort of thing for him!

And so had Beckett, beforehand. Which made his attempts of survival in the real world all the more difficult.

----------

Beckett had realized something.

And that something was that the words 'I'm not crazy' bounced straight off of all physicians, especially ones who had been convinced that the sayee of said words was indeed crazy. Beckett folded his arms and looked at Guan, rather annoyed. He felt he had a right to be rather annoyed. _He wasn't crazy._ He wondered if Elizabeth wanted him out of the way or something.

"Doctor Do," he said, sitting forwards, "Look, I'm fine. Surely you can see that?"

"The problem with crazy people is that they never think they're crazy," Guan smiled, his teeth strangely clean for a pirate, his whispering Asian accent very much affecting his speech but still easily comprehensible, "I have an idea for you."

Beckett rolled his eyes as Guan Do stood up and walked over to a cupboard, rummaging through it. Ship's surgeons were not the most delicate of doctors—not like the physicians that Beckett had come to expect. The sawed limbs off, roughly stitched men back together and pulled out teeth... they were _that_ kind of doctor. In a similar vein, what Guan came back with very quickly terrified Beckett more than almost anything else he had encountered on his journeys thus far.

It looked like some grotesque and violent mask—a sort of metal helmet _thing_ for his head. The worst thing was that the outside had long spines coming out of it, and they travelled through to the inside of the helmet, and they were pointy. It was like an instrument of torture. Guan pulled the spikes out fully, so that none remained inside. However, Beckett could see a few Durian-like spikes inside.

Ah; durians. They are a type of fruit, yellow or green in colour, and covered in small, blunt spikes, which makes them rather hard to eat. However, inside, there lies the tasty, and very creamy flesh of the durian—mm, banana-y!

Durians are also a good metaphor for certain people; spiky on the outside, separated from the world by a barrier of prickles... yet on the inside, it's smooth and sweet as custard and tasting of bananas and alcohol! Am I talking about Cutler Beckett? Perhaps not. But do note that durians have an incredibly pungent smell.

Anyhow, enough talk of durians... this is turning into a cookery lesson. Beckett was too preoccupied staring at the hideous contraption to be wandering off on thoughts about Southeast Asian fruits—this thing was going to kill him! Beckett eyed Guan warily.

"What's that for?" he asked, suspiciously.

"This," Guan explained, "Goes on your head, with the-," he didn't get to explain the fine mechanics of pressure points on the skull and helping to relieve stress, because Beckett leapt off of the bunk as if he'd been struck by lightning.

"You are not putting that thing on my head," Beckett said sternly, "If you try, I will have to kill you." At this point, he would have liked to brandish a weapon, but he found that he had none.

"Sir, this wont harm you," Guan seemed unsure of how to explain it, "It's-,"

"It will _skewer_ my _brain_!" Beckett put a lot of emphasis on his words, as if that would help to get the meaning across clearly. Guan wrinkled his nose.

"No, sir, they can't penetrate the skull, it simply-," he was, for the third time, interrupted. But not by speech. He just felt it rather unnecessary to speak to thin air, seeing as Beckett had made a bid for freedom, and was now out of the door and gone. Placing the helmet back down, Guan walked to the door of the sick bay, frowning.

Beckett was completely convinced that this 'doctor' was an absolute nut. Be it a peanut, coconut, walnut, chestnut, hazelnut or scrotum—he was obviously some sort of sick, twisted, madman! What other sort of person carried a helmet around that was full of spikes that could be shoved into your _head_?

In his hurry to get away from the madman, he ended up walking right into a man who he did not want to see—Jack Sparrow. Beckett made to walk around him, but Jack stepped sideways to block his path, grinning slightly evilly.

"Where're you off to, Cutler?" Jack asked.

"_Don't_ call me Cutler, like we are _equals_ of some description," Beckett fumed, holding a condescending finger up, "And where I am going is of no interest to you!"

"It is, however, if interest to _me_... Cutler," Elizabeth stepped into view, folding her arms. She had changed into some much more fearsome oriental clothing—not as grand as her Calypso garb, but impressive all the same—and looked to be a formidable enemy. Beckett, however, didn't care.

"Your doctor is a lunatic, and he's trying to cut my brain," Beckett explained. Elizabeth blinked. _He's gone mad_, she thought, _he's cracked!_

"Guan?" Elizabeth gestured for the ship's surgeon—who was looking slightly disapproving, to step forwards, "Please decipher what this man is talking about," she corrected herself, looking meaningfully at Jack and Beckett.

"I have a special... hmm... hat, which puts pressure on parts of the skull, a medical practice in the east," Guan nodded, his English a tad broken at explaining, "He won't let me," he looked towards Beckett, as if surprised that he didn't want what looked like a device of violent torture stuck onto his head. Beckett scowled.

"Oh, Christ, Beckett, just put the hat on, will you?" Elizabeth rolled her eyes.

"It's not that simple," Beckett said, narrowing his eyes, "Come and see this 'hat' yourself. _You_ put it on." He folded his arms, seemingly obsolete about his decision. Elizabeth rolled her eyes and followed Guan back to the sick bay, dragging Beckett behind her, with a slightly-interested Jack Sparrow at their heels. _At least he's talking to me,_ Elizabeth thought, slyly.

There was a short silence after Guan held up the helmet. The black metal glinted like dark oil in the candlelight, spikes and all.

"See?" Beckett sniffed, folding his arms.

"Well, that certainly... _looks_ dangerous," Elizabeth cleared her throat, deciding to go for a more captainly approach, "If _Cutler_ is too coward for your simple contraption," she smirked towards Beckett, "Then please, use the more easy method of medication and herbs and suchlike..." she waved an arm. She didn't know much about medicine; and what little she did know, she had learned from Beckett that time on the island when he had fallen ill with the grippe. "What food would you suggest?"

"I am always trying to get the sailors to eat more fruit... so many cases of scurvy, I have seen..." Guan shook his head, sadly, "There is a lot to be said for just a little bit of greenery in your diet."

"Quite," Beckett said, with such a note of withering hatred slamming down in the single syllable like a slab of stone that Guan actually took a step backwards.

Elizabeth would have laughed (and probably tried to disguise it), but her thoughts were elsewhere—the grippe. The memory made her stomach clench. It seemed like a lifetime ago now, how stressful even that simple life had been! A time when she had been a starstuck idiot, deciding to save Beckett's life because she had thought he was a good man underneath a wicked mask... foolish of her! He was _far_ from a good man.

Jack Sparrow, his interest lost, turned and left; though Elizabeth stayed and watched, making sure Beckett didn't cause too much trouble, as Guan gave him three different medications of some description. Beckett was too busy being in a huff to ask, so simply took the medicine given and then left, though not before shooting a glare first at Elizabeth, then at Guan, and then his most powerful glare, usually reserved for traitors and beggars and London vendors trying to sell him things, towards the horrible helmet thing.

"What medicine did you give him?" Elizabeth asked, raising an eyebrow.

"The first was for rest, the second was for headaches... and the last, to stop his tongue," Guan said peaceably, with a slight smile. Elizabeth liked the way this man thought... she walked outside, to go and try to coax some incoherent gibberish from Beckett. Medicines that numbed the mouth had gained a new respect from her.

* * *

**NB: **OK, umm, so I promise it gets more interesting next chapter? For old time's sake, here's one of these...

NEXT TIME: _With a barely suppressed yelp, Beckett shot backwards and ended up landing flat on his backside in a fairly undignified manner, which he detested. He made a grab for whatever had just attacked him in the darkness, missed, and then blinked at what he saw._


	8. Parley Juice

EIGHT: Parley Juice

"_Black Pearl_ in sight!"

"_Black Pearl in sight!_"

"The _Pearl_?" Jack leapt to his feet, rubbing his hands together. The call had been echoed down from the crow's nest, and immediately orders were given to head towards the vessel. Jack looked around at the men, quickly getting to work, and then spotted Elizabeth. He quickly rushed up to her. "The _Pearl_!" Jack cried, waving an arm, "We have to get the _Pearl_!"

Elizabeth folded her arms and raised an eyebrow.

"Parley, I suppose?" she asked, with a sigh. She had had the pleasure of doing parley with Barbossa before—and it had not ended well.

"What we need," Jack waved his hands vaguely, "Is a plan."

----------

"What are we doing so close to that thing?" Beckett asked, his voice strained with displeasure. Elizabeth rolled her eyes.

"Basically, me and Jack are going to have a little chat over with Barbossa, once our vessels meet. We've signalled and everything—they won't fire on us," she smiled as reassuring as a nurse, although Beckett still seemed unconvinced, "Jack and I have to stay in the sight of Barbossa; but there is a certain item on the _Black Pearl_ that we need. Fairly badly." She looked at Beckett, pointedly.

"_And_?" he asked, scathingly.

"Well, Beckett. We're at a loss for anyone to go and get it apart from you."

"You have an entire crew!" Beckett swept an arm around him, indicating to the men all around him, working the sails and whatnot.

"But they're not... just listen a second," Elizabeth said. Beckett rolled his eyes. Jack, had told Elizabeth that Beckett would be perfect for the job, and she was starting to realize why. "The item is a book. A book that has all of the myths and legends in it, apparently; it's small, with black leather covers, and is rather thick."

"Oh?" Beckett tilted his head, thoughtfully, but not yet struck with realization. "I used to have a book like that," he said, offhandedly.

"Jack said he stole it somewhere..." Elizabeth completed.

"The original manuscript was South African, believe it or not. Then it went missing, and I w-," Beckett suddenly blinked, the penny dropping with a loud clang. His head snapped around and was storming off towards Jack before Elizabeth could do anything. "Sparrow!"

"Oh, yes, Cutler?" Jack asked, forcing cheerfulness into his voice, though he took in Beckett's expression and quickly stepped around behind a barrel.

"That book," Beckett said, in a quiet voice that had about seven shouts' worth of anger stuffed into it, "Was mine. You stole it," he glared at Jack once more. Jack opened his hands out and shrugged.

"Temptation was too strong," Jack said with a crooked grin, "Pirate?"

"You weren't a pirate at the time. You were my lieutenant," Beckett's hands gripped the edge of the barrel, and he glowered at Jack accusingly over the top of it, "That book cost me a fortune, and I was only just beginning to crack its riddles, too."

"So you're perfect for this job, 'cause you know what it looks like!" Jack spread his hands out, "Simple, eh?"

"Yes, Jack," Elizabeth cut in at this point, "But Barbossa also happens to know what Beckett looks like. If he's spotted..." she pursed her lips, "I think it may just be the end of the line for dear Cutler." Beckett shot her a look that said, _not you, too._ Elizabeth had taken on Jack's sardonic name of 'dear Cutler' for him, it seemed.

"And wouldn't that be a shame?" Jack rolled his eyes.

"It would," Beckett pouted and folded his arms across his chest. Elizabeth looked from Jack to Beckett, and realized that she would have to take charge here; otherwise the two men's childish antics could end up being the ruination of their plans. Sighing, she put on her big, pirate king voice.

"Jack, get prepared with the gangplank for parley," she snapped, "Beckett, you are doing this whether you like it or not!" She fished a sword from a sheath at her side and whipped it to Beckett's face, "Understand?"

"Of course I do, I'm not an idiot," Beckett muttered through gritted teeth, tilting his face upwards to stop the uncomfortable resting of the flat side of her oriental weapon against his Adam's apple. _Yes, I understand_, he thought, _But I definitely do not agree_.

"Good," Elizabeth said smoothly, sliding the sword back into its sheath at her side, "Now get on with it."

----------

"Morning, Hector!" Jack said cheerily, "I hope you've been looking after me ship well!"

"Sparrow," Barbossa narrowed his eyes in a look of intense distrust, his mouth equally slit, as if opening it too wide may allow it to come to something resembling a smile; and that was not an impression he wanted to give to the loathsome pirate before him. "Where be the charts?"

"You two," Elizabeth said boldly, looking from one to the other, "We are here to discuss. Nothing more. What is it, exactly, that you two want?"

"The _Pearl_ back!" Jack said immediately, looking around at his beautiful ship, as if in awe at its magnificence, even after all of the time in the past that he had spent looking at it. The black sails billowed magnificently, and his raggedy crew stood around, their faces pointed downwards in many cases, as if in embarrassment at seeing the captain that they had mutinied against twice now.

"And I be wantin' the charts, so this is easy enough, isn't it?" Barbossa said pleasantly, putting a paw on Jack's shoulder. Barbossa was much taller then all of them there, and his large hat was still perched atop his head, the ostrich feather swaying in the breeze.

"You aren't having the charts," Jack said, wagging a finger, "They came to be in my position fair and square; _not_ like me ship came to be in _yours_."

"So I suppose I'll be keepin' the _Pearl_, then," Barbossa said, nonchalantly.

"Why not try a joint captainship?" Elizabeth suggested. The two men both stared at her, as if what she had just suggested was so ludicrous, it wasn't even worth the beginning of a thought.

"What can I trade for my beautiful vessel, _apart_ from the charts?" Jack tried, hopefully.

"Nothing," Barbossa said obstinately, "Nothing else'll do, I'm afraid, Jack." Elizabeth realized that they could be there a while. At least that should give enough time to the other member of their ship who had crept on board the _Black Pearl_...

----------

Filthy, stupid, smelly _pirates_! Beckett slipped on board the _Pearl_ along with Elizabeth, Jack and a few other of the Chinese crew, a woven straw hat covering his face well enough. Keeping his head ducked, he slid along towards the cabin wall, bobbed inconspicuously in the shadows for a moment, and then slithered down into the brig, down a damp ladder, which emitted a tiny, squeaky creak but not enough to cause concern.

Everyone up there had seemed fairly intent on eavesdropping on the little parley taking place up there, though Beckett would have been none too surprised if a brawl begun before not so long. They were only pirates, after all.

Trotting through the brig, he searched for what Jack had described as the 'rum-shelf'. Apparently, he couldn't miss it... finally, he came across the criss-crossed rack of wooden planks, with various bottles sticking out of it. He walked to the far end of it, knelt down to the damp wood that made up the floor rather distastefully, and squinted trough the blackness.

Two up, five across. He moved his hand forwards, and ran it along the little pigeonholes, until he came to what he thought was the correct one. Sighing impatiently, he wrapped his fingers around the cold top of a bottle, when suddenly, something small, indistinct and furry came screeching at him from the blackness.

With a barely suppressed yelp, Beckett shot backwards and ended up landing flat on his backside in a fairly undignified manner, which he detested. He made a grab for whatever had just attacked him in the darkness, missed, and then blinked at what he saw. Then he scowled.

That damned monkey.

* * *

**NB: **Yay, Jack the monkey!

NEXT TIME: _"The _honour _of being called a_ pirate_? Well, that's an oxymoron if I ever heard one, you-!"_


	9. Poached Monkey

NINE: Poached Monkey

Jack the monkey swung himself up onto the rum-rack and sat himself down on a particularly large, protruding bottle, chittering. Beckett frowned at the furry little beast, and then moved towards the shelf once again, yanking the bottle from the gap—almost immediately, the monkey leapt onto him with the strange fury only displayed by a loyal pet finding its owner's possessions being trifled with.

Flicking a wrist distastefully, Beckett managed to detach the monkey from his hand by throwing the bottle of the rum—along with the monkey clinging to it—across the hangar, and he flinched slightly as the bottle smashed to pieces against a metal girder with a crash and tinkle, the monkey giving a loud screech as it began leaping towards him.

Knowing full well that the fuzzy little monster could go and raise the alarm, Beckett made a wild snatch for the monkey; it slipped away easily, and then bounced off up through various rafters, until it slipped away through the criss-cross of struts that made up the top of the hold. Scowling, Beckett quickly returned to the shelf of rum, shoved his hand into the hole where the bottle he had just smashed used to be, and felt right to the back—and there, he gripped something.

Pulling it out with a flourish, he quickly leapt to his feet and clambered back up the wooden ladder, noticing with a small frown that his once-prized book had a set of bite marks along the spinal edge. Jack must have been fairly determined to get it.

It was in this book that he had first read about the legend of Davy Jones and his chest—that infernal sea monster and his heart, which had caused all of this nonsense in the first place! Chock-a-block with rhymes and riddles and strange writing, Beckett had been unable to make head nor tail of it at first, but eventually he managed to strangle some secrets from it—before having it stolen away, of course.

That book had been _valuable_. And it still was... he felt its weight in his hand as he made his way back onto the deck, heavy with knowledge, glancing around at the others and slipping it into an inside pocket. Elizabeth caught his eye, and raised an eyebrow. He noticed the monkey on Barbossa's shoulder. It began shrieking once it saw Beckett.

"I think we should make our leave," Elizabeth chipped in, nodding to her men. Beckett began following the crowd back towards the _Red Kite_, and Jack the monkey bounced off of Barbossa's shoulder, and jumped up onto Beckett's back, clambering up to his head. Beckett pulled a face underneath his woven hat, which Jack seemed quite intent to tear off. Barbossa looked at Jack, who simply shrugged, and then to Elizabeth who sighed.

_How did I know that he would somehow mess this up?_ she thought, tiredly.

"I s'pose I'll not be takin' the _Pearl_ away with me today, then," Jack sighed sadly, running a hand over a black-painted banister. _Once I'm immortal,_ he thought, _I'll be back for you, darlin'. _It pained him an unbelievable amount to leave her.

"And what might be interestin' my Jack so much?" Barbossa walked quickly across the deck, and swiped the hat off of Beckett, who had little else to do but pray. And stare at Barbossa's beard. Beckett was waiting for it to say something, but as of yet, it was keeping schtum.

As Barbossa inspected his face, Beckett tried a light-hearted smile. It didn't work. He looked different—but, apparently, not different enough. Barbossa still recognized him from their little parley on the sand spit. The moment did not receive the huge hit of shock and clarity that it deserved. "Is this who I think it is?" Barbossa asked, quietly.

"Well, it was lovely seeing you Hector, but we must be off!" Jack said abruptly, ushering Beckett across the gangplank and onto the _Kite_. Jack the monkey was once more perched on Barbossa's shoulder, looking as disapproving as was possible for a small monkey in a waistcoat. Barbossa's eyes had narrowed considerably. Elizabeth turned towards the dishonestly appointed captain of the _Black Pearl_.

"Captain Barbossa," Elizabeth said, "We've become rather caught up. Just trust me when I say that there are a lot of terrible things happening right now, and..." She looked at the captain, biting her lip. He moved his face closer to hers.

"If that _is_ the former Lord Beckett," Barbossa growled into her face, with the nice addition of rum-breath, his yellowed eyes peering into hers distrustingly, "He has quite a price on his head, from what I understand," he smirked at this point, "What is he doing with you?"

"There is a reason," Elizabeth back-stepped onto the gangplank between the _Kite_ and the _Pearl_, "And trust me, all will be revealed. Just trust me," she took a deep breath, "And tell _no-one_. Understand?"

"I understand," Barbossa leered, speaking words that echoed Beckett's own not so long ago, "But that doesn't mean I'll do as you say."

"Good day, Captain Barbossa," Elizabeth said curtly.

"Good day... Mrs Turner," Barbossa replied.

"That's _Captain_," Elizabeth snapped in reply, "And ex-King too, if you please. I still have authority."

"Not any more," Barbossa smirked.

She realized that if she were still Pirate King, there was no way that this would be any trouble. But... well, it was different, now. Pressing her lips together, Elizabeth stepped onto the _Kite_, allowed her men to sweep away the gangplank, and then the two vessels parted; each with a whole new perspective on things.

----------

"I'll be back for you, I promise," Jack muttered to the wind, as he watched the _Black Pearl_ sailing away from him once more—it pained him to see it go.

"Well, that certainly could have gone better," Beckett said warily, pulling the book from an inside pocket to the large overcoat he'd been made to wear. He inspected the spine. "Now, why does this precious and ancient artefact have a ring of bite marks on the spine?" he glared at Jack.

"Stealin' it was pretty hard," Jack grinned and nodded at him, as if in approval at the chess move played by a clever (yet not quite clever enough) advisory. "You hid it well, Cutler old chum."

"I'm not 'Cutler old chum'," Beckett said the last three words in slurry imitation of Jack, "This book cost thous-,"

"Quiet, you two," Elizabeth spun towards the two men, coming out of her reverie. She'd been watching the other vessel carefully. "Barbossa knows who you are, Beckett. You completely and utterly messed the plan up."

"How is it _my_ fault?" Beckett asked drawing his eyebrows together disdainfully, "It was his little pet that ratted me out, which _I_ think was quite unavoidable..."

"He's got a point," Jack said, nodding, "That monkey's a little fiend." He mimed strangling something enthusiastically, and both Beckett and Elizabeth looked at him blankly for a moment, before turning to each other.

"So what's the absolute worst Barbossa would do?" Beckett asked the fair-haired captain of their vessel.

"Spill to Leonard and his lot that you're on board a ship called the _Red Kite_ with Jack Sparrow and Elizabeth Turner, I suppose," Elizabeth said with a shrug, "I don't know if he'd do it, though. It's one thing to betray pirates to pirates—it's another to betray them to the Company."

"I'm not a pirate," Beckett said, in a voice that had forced itself to be calm via coming up his windpipe sideways, by the sound of things.

"I wouldn't give you the honour of bein' called one," Jack said quickly.

"The _honour_ of being called a _pirate_? Well, that's an oxymoron if I ever heard one, you-!"

"Both of you, be quiet," Elizabeth growled, whipping the book out of Beckett's hands. Beckett resisted, holding tight for a moment—then he let her take the book from him, sighing. She turned it over, and inspected the untitled cover. "Forget Barbossa. We're getting out of here soon, anyway."

"To the Fountain of Youth," Jack grinned, "Great!" Saying this, he plucked the book from Elizabeth's fingers. She frowned at him, and made a grab for it—he held it out of her reach.

"_I'm_ the captain here, Jack!" Elizabeth snapped in annoyance.

"Yes, Lizzie, but I'm quite certain that when it comes to riddles, I am the man you need," Jack held his arms out, "It's my book, after all."

"Wrong on both counts, Jack," Beckett said tersely, "The book is _mine_. And I never did have you pinned down as a man for solving riddles," he smirked slightly, holding out his hand, "I believe that _I_ am the rightful owner of that book."

"Lizzie, dear Captain Lizzie," Jack put a hand onto her shoulder, "Did I not save us all from the Locker by working out the meaning of those cryptic charts?" Elizabeth sighed, "And did I not work out from said cryptic charts exactly where to go, and how to go about gettin' to the Fountain?" She nodded, though somewhat reluctantly. "Well, then. Let's be goin'."

Beckett lowered his hand, giving Jack the most withering look he could dredge up at the moment. Waving the book triumphantly, Jack wove towards his cabin.

* * *

**NB: **OK, so next time you'll find out just how NOT cut-out I am for writing sonnets.

NEXT TIME: _"What we are goin' after here is a myth, Lizzie," Jack wagged a finger, "Accuracy would seem like cheating, bilking—nay, letting ourselves down!"_


	10. Riddle and Squeak

TEN: Riddle and Squeak

_Sip whilst kneeling, sip lip-to-lip, never leave. Flip three times._ What? _Live to never. Live forever._ Cryptic was right. _One or the other. Take the space. _Hmm..._ Gre edisno trewa rdedbya nyli fe. _Gibberish? _Dri nkiti nthec avean dyo uwillsu fferf oryourc rim es._ And then some French, and then... _On l yth ebehol derca ndri nkwit hou tdea tha spunis men tfo rthe ft. Hewh ofil lsthecont ainerm us tdrin kithi mse lf._

_Sunset ahead, home turn, track through back way._ Jack felt that he knew what this meant. _Nothing is obvious._ They had that bloody right! Not more... _Ke epati tandn ot hingwi llst opy ou._

_Sel lin gwi llno two rkfo rthism ost valu ablewat erth atsom anyde sire._ That seemed to be at least one word of decipherable English at the end. _Itw illon lyres ultind eathto th osewh otry. Tr ytounde rmine theau thori ty ofth eg ods._ Right. And then some crazy sonnet.

_The whole water'd hole is turned upside-down; The fallen mist creeps solemn on the ground. Overeager steals the goddess' crown, The hare upon the roof tell turn around. Vessel of life ist turnéd rude by greed; The ground detests the drinker's bended knee, Immersed in hunger, shall hunger succeed, Thirst shall unlike as throats tight stay with thee. Disgust at ye may turn them into dust, Berlady hath known much a lesser fleer—As widows lovéd seeing the bones rust. Be scathéd should the candles reappear. A water so holy pass it forth not, A death unmarkéd is a death forgot._

Absolutely bloody impossible. But it meant something. It must mean something...

----------

"I do not approve of this attire," Beckett said sniffily, folding his arms. Elizabeth looked at him, dressed more appropriately for work on board a pirate ship. He certainly did look... different. But that was a good thing. The more he looked like his old self, the more she felt disgusted with him; she didn't _want_ him reminding her of his past crimes against her.

A simple ruffled shirt—though not too ruffled—over a dark brown jerkin, with big grey buttons that caught the light. He had on the same boots that he had taken from his manor—which were not strictly piratical, but he refused to relinquish them—with dark grey pantaloons tucked into them. He also had on a thick, black belt that made his waist look slimmer then a supermodel's... not that they existed.

"Most ladies would die for a figure like yours, Beckett," Elizabeth said in a teasing tone. Beckett brushed his shirt down idly.

"Most ladies would die _with_ a figure like mine, Elizabeth," he replied dryly, pulling an overcoat on and buttoning up the front. Elizabeth raised an eyebrow. Beckett was not the most brawny of men—his shoulders tapered down to a trim waistline, and though it could not be said that he was built like a beanpole, he was apparently 'fashionably slim'—though after his time on the run from the law, what with the distinct lack of food, he was becoming unmistakeably scrawny.

"Where is your head at, Beckett?" Elizabeth sighed and folded her arms, "You're taking this journey-to-immortality very calmly. And I can't help but think that you're planning something."

"What is there to plan?" Beckett smiled a lethargic smile, "I'm simply biding my time. You remember that, Elizabeth."

"Do any of you two happen to know the meaning of the word 'spunis'?" Jack suddenly popped up behind them in the way that he did quite often, "Because I am so bloody confused by that impossibly contrary book of yours."

"So it's my book now," Beckett muttered.

"I don't know what 'spunis' is, Jack," Elizabeth said, ignoring Beckett, "It sounds Latin?" Jack and Beckett both shook their heads, as if she were a simpleton.

"There are pages and pages and pages of writing... but I hardly understand any of them. The sonnet means nothing, either; and that's meant to be English! _But_," Jack paused and held a finger up, smiling a pleased smile, "I think I've worked out that we have to land on the west side of Florida, and travel through to the Fountain of Youth."

"And what makes you jump to that conclusion?" Beckett asked, in a frowny voice. He himself did not frown, but his tone conveyed his distaste effortlessly.

"_Sunset ahead, home turn, track through back way_," Jack recited from the book, which was open before him, "Set behind. The sun sets in the west. Put it ahead of us—and we're going westwards," he paused, "Savvy?"

"No, not 'savvy'," Beckett said the final word in a rather silly and mimicking tenor, "What about home turn, track through back way?"

"Well, I'm still working on those," Jack said in a confiding tone.

"I suppose that 'track through back way' refers to going around the back, so to speak," Elizabeth said, "As the Fountain is, according to Sao's charts, further to the east of Florida. See?" Elizabeth raised an eyebrow, and Beckett clicked his tongue.

"And anything else you care to tell us about this map?" Beckett peered at some words, "What does '_Dree ner-konfe eetin ottons tone_' mean? What language is that?" Beckett frowned, "It's like no dialect I've ever heard of..."

"I'm sure all will become clear," Jack said cheerfully.

"_Sip whilst kneeling, sip lip-to-lip, never leave. Flip three times_," Beckett said, incredulously, "Who wrote this _rubbish_?" Well, now. "Flip three times? That's just like saying flip once, is it not?"

"Ay?" Jack snatched the book from him and frowned at it, "You mean... do the opposite?"

"I suppose," Beckett muttered. Jack scratched an eyebrow and thought for a moment. Beckett looked at the writing. "So _don't_ slip whilst kneeling, _don't_ sip 'lip-to-lip', and leave?" Oh, he's a sharp one indeed.

"Huh. And that's a lot of help. 'Leave'," Jack said.

"What does it mean, 'don't sip lip-to-lip'?" Elizabeth asked.

"That's anyone's guess," Jack muttered, "Bloody riddles."

"Florida. Swampy, marshy wasteland. Currently being colonized mainly by the Spanish and French, I believe," Beckett said curtly, changing the subject to something more tangible. "Though that is to change." The last English colonies to settle there had been a disaster—but they were willing to try again. Soon.

"Yes, alright, Mister Patriotic," Elizabeth blew her fringe up, "So we approach from the west, make our way through the swamplands, and get to this fountain... we don't even know what it looks like," she put her hands on her hips, "Any chance of accuracy?"

"What we are goin' after here is a myth, Lizzie," Jack wagged a finger, "Accuracy would seem like cheating, bilking—nay, letting ourselves down!"

"Accuracy makes for a safe voyage in which everyone will not end up dead," Beckett said matter-of-factly, and Jack raised an eyebrow.

"Would _you_ drink the fountain water, Beckett?" Jack grinned, "If given the chance, would you take a good gulp?"

"I'm still deciding about that one," Beckett said, looking thoughtful.

"Who said I'd give you the choice?"

"If I am to risk my life coming on this little journey with all of you," Beckett shot both Elizabeth and Jack a particularly nasty look, "Then I should at least be able to reap some of its rewards. Wouldn't you say that was fair?"

"Yes, that would be fair," Elizabeth folded her arms with an amused smile, "But then again, what's fair about making a deal to leave our pirate fleet alone if we defeat the _Dutchman_, and then when the defeat happens, sending the _Endeavour_ forwards to finish us off?" Elizabeth snorted, "You deserved to be blown up!"

"It was just... it was..." Beckett frowned severely, "That is not a very nice thing to say."

"Hmm, and I suppose everything you say to me is perfectly nice," Elizabeth said, raising an eyebrow. Beckett sighed dramatically.

"I feel I have a right. I have you constantly bullying, oppressing and harassing me," he rolled his eyes, "Why not pick on somebody else for a change? Does it not matter to you that I win every argument we end up in?"

"You do not," Elizabeth said, looking scandalized.

"You're very bad at arguing," Beckett said with a smirk, straightening one ruffled sleeve with a jerk of his wrist.

"I am not!" Elizabeth flushed slightly.

Jack folded his arms and looked from one of them to another. They were like children. No, worse—they were like a married couple.

* * *

**NB: **tralalalalala...

NEXT TIME: _Elizabeth tapped a finger against her chin. "Beckett, I think Jack may have gotten the idea by now," she said._


End file.
